Nubilous
by In Pieces
Summary: I was a leverage, a mere reminder of the influence he had on me and everyone else. Power was important for him, even more than his well-being; and when he felt that power slipping away from his grasp he came here to reinforce himself, because he knew that no matter what he did I would always be at his mercy. VergilxOC.
1. Prospect

The rays of sunlight that filtered through the partially drawn curtains on the window were the last straw that woke me up from the peaceful slumber I was in, making me sigh almost involuntarily as I thought with despair that the miniscule stain of hope that crossed my mind over and over last night until I fell asleep would be, once again, shattered in a million pieces that crumbled into my mind, making a permanent scar in my memories that would stop nagging me when the situation repeated itself, even if I knew beforehand that the results would be exactly the same as before.

To my surprise he was still in bed beside me and not awake reading one of the books that were scattered across my room as he waited until I decided to wake up to bid farewell in a way that didn't even sound as a goodbye because of his crude and detached choice of words, as I expected; and I found myself staring at him with a combination of curiosity and skepticism.

He looked untroubled, peaceful. States of harmony that were almost impossible to see when he was awake under that perfectly aligned mask he always wore and that I still found impossible to crack no matter how much I tried. His chest rose and fell in a soothing pattern, moving the bed sheets slightly with every breath he took. It was a pleasant change to see him like that; I wanted to believe that there was a side of him that was buried deep into that emotionless expression that nearly never changed, side where he could forget about all the troubles that pestered him restlessly and give him a well-deserved break from the havoc on his mind. But, it was just a childish thought that bordered on foolishness. That was the way he was, nothing could change that. This was just a momentary break before it all came back to life and that peaceful exterior got encapsulated inside him and replaced by a deadpan expression.

I furrowed my brows when I noticed that his silky white hair was covering his eyes; for some reason he despised his hair being like that. I thought his loathing was nonsensical but still, I drew my hand out from the warm comfort under the covers to slick it back with my fingers. His hand reached out and griped my wrist tightly as his eyes snapped open to glare at me with an intensity that made me quiver as I tried to pry his painful grasp from my limb. He gave it a quick and painful squeeze in reflex before releasing it flatly; his icy eyes still in a potent glare that I wanted to believe was starting to soften, making me look away in resentment and embarrassment for even thinking that I would get away with it.  
I didn't apologize though, neither did he. There was no need for an insincere exchange of words of that nature.

I slipped out of bed and picked up the discarded clothes scattered across the room silently, putting them on as I found them with dull animosity. He was already dressed, the only thing missing from his body was his signature blue coat that was neatly folded on the chair next to the window.

"I'm surprised you were still asleep when I woke up."

He shifted his eyes from the window pane to me wordlessly. When I didn't got an immediate answer I thought that he had decided to ignore me completely until his voice reached my ears in that rich and elegant tone of his that reminded me of the blade he always carried with him: lethal, but appealing enough to find yourself helplessly drawn towards it. "This will be the first and last time an occurrence of this type will ensue."

"I wouldn't mind if this happened again," I said and turned to face him completely, raising an eyebrow when I found out he had changed his position. I didn't even hear him get off the bed and walk over to the chair. He already had his coat on, an indubitable sign that he was about to depart. "I truly enjoy your company, Vergil."

We always kept each other at arm's length.  
He didn't want me close yet refused to let me go completely. Every once in a while he would let out small tidbits of information, whether it was about him, places he had visited or people he had met there was always a certain pattern: he deserted any kind of relationship, not even family ties were safe to face the same fate.

I, on the other hand, was careful with the bonds I created but still found myself wanting to get away from him at the same time my mind ached for his presence. I've seen the things he could do; how he could slice a body in pieces with his katana and a flick of his wrist in a movement so mesmerizing and graceful that, even though the scene was gruesome and it was morbid to be so fascinated with death, I couldn't bring myself to peel my eyes away from it, from _him_.

I was a leverage, a mere reminder of the influence he had on me and everyone else. Power was important for him, even more than his well-being; and when he felt that power slipping away from his grasp he came here to reinforce himself, because he knew that no matter what he did I would always be at his mercy.

And as soon as that he recovered from that, he left.

Although his departures were bitter, he left something behind: an ancient book or scroll that served the purpose of a small memento. When he started to leave those curious objects I couldn't understand the meaning behind his actions, but as time passed on I learned that it was his own way of showing me that, somehow, I was worthy of his presence.

"I cannot stay any longer; perhaps next time would be more appropriate." He replied as he walked past me with an elegant grace that never seized to amaze me. I pretended to ignore the small red book on the nightstand that wasn't there the night before as I stared at his retreating back that soon disappeared into the corridor.

It was impossible to know when he would be back, or if he would be back at all.

But at the time, that didn't matter.

If he wanted to, he could make his words feel even worse that the fatal blows he delivered to his enemies minus the physical pain, I would know. I'm not sure if he entirely realized that the simple statement he made was enough to ignite my naïve hope.

He probably did.

And for now, I was content living in a mirage of possible delusion.

* * *

This was originally meant to be a one shot, but I've decided to add another chapter to culminate it. I'll do my best and will try to upload it soon.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and its characters belong to Capcom.


	2. Ouroboros

Months passed before I saw him again.

The rain was pouring outside, drowning my pitiful excuse of a garden and bringing a torrent of water rushing down the street alongside dirt, leaves and the occasional colorful rubble. The rain hit the metal pipes attached to the structure constantly, providing a soothing accompaniment to the constant crackling the flames made from the fireplace.

I found myself lost in the somewhat sweet scent of the burning oak logs as well as the recurring sounds outdoors, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. However, my state of bliss was interrupted as the door was opened, intensifying the sound of the rain hitting the cement for a few seconds before it became muffled as the barrier between the living room and the outside was closed softly, followed by quiet footsteps that startled me and made me jerk my head towards the sound to identify the uninvited guest.

Vergil was soaking wet, his snowy hair brushed down as a result of the intense rain and his coat slowly dripping the excess water into the floor. He wasn't pleased, I could notice by the irritation etched into his features in the form of a scowl, his icy eyes filled with abhorrence as he clutched a gold colored object tightly in his hand almost to the point of crushing it to pieces. I even dared to say that he looked exhausted.

"It's been awhile." I said softly as a greeting; feeling my heartbeat return to its normal rhythm after seeing his familiar face, yet a pang of uneasiness crept in me after seeing his hostile body language.

"I have been busy lately." He replied. His icy eyes bore into mine before he walked past me to the fireplace and knelt down gracefully, inspecting his inquiring object before dropping it into the tantalizing flames that, powered by the foreign item, morphed into a swirling spike of orange and red hues that saturated the warm atmosphere with a wave of heat that propagated quickly around the house, emitting a sulfuric smell that made me cringe involuntarily. The air felt dense and heavy; completely breaking the balance it used to have and plaguing it with an eerie sensation.

I opened my mouth to ask about the odd reaction of the flames when I noticed something that restrained me for uttering a single word.

The scene in front of me was surreal and felt almost like a dream that slowly progressed into a nightmare as I kept staring. The uneasiness was back with fear that was building higher with each moment that passed and soon invaded all my senses, successfully making me feel numb.  
As Vergil stood facing the flames I found myself irrevocably staring at the dark figure that spread from the soles of his boots to the clear space behind him, a grand shadow that ranged out with the silhouette of an outrageous creature of harsh features with what looked like a set of horns sprouting from the upper sides of his head.

He turned to face me as if somehow he knew how I was feeling, and when his eyes lingered on mine I felt frightened and powerless, like a prey facing its inevitable fate by the hands of a hunter. I wanted to run, to scream and curse my ingenuousness for allowing a man that I barely knew to enter my life and mark it with his singularity. But then I asked myself: what difference would it make if I ran, shouted, quivered or took a stand to face the truth? And the answer came crashing over bitter and painfully; no matter what I did now it would only delay what I knew it would come.

Vergil knew why I was afraid. He kept an stoic expression on his face as he strode over to me smoothly, spiking my fear even further until I felt invisible droplets of cold sweat prickling at my skin. In a desperate attempt to get away from the situation, I backed away a few steps as my gaze kept locked on his eyes until the rough texture of the wall hit my back unexpectedly. Every fiber of my being wanted to escape, to run away so far that this moment could only be seen as an excruciating fantasy…But I couldn't.

"I find ironic that you yearn for what you fear." Vergil spoke as he glowered at my trembling frame. I couldn't stand looking at the eyes that I had found myself lost in countless times. I felt betrayed, stripped out of the conformity I had irrationally created.

He came dangerously close to me; his body scarce inches for mine so he could say the following words slowly, in a velvety tone barely about a whisper with an undertone that I was trying hard to ignore. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done the task a long time ago."

Whatever was his reasoning behind those words, they provided anything but relief to my distressed mind.

"I wish you'd leave…" I said as sternly as I could but failed at in my attempt to appear strong.

"You wish that I would leave, but do you want me to?"

I looked up at him in surprise, trying to unwisely find the correct answer on his face. Did I really want him gone after all? Did I want to be stripped bare from the crackled illusion I've created? I knew that saying the word that he wanted to hear- and that_ I_ wanted to say- would only promise to deliver a blow to my sanity and well-being. Was it worth risking everything for this?

"No." Everything felt wrong and right at the same time; a perfect balance between two incompatible choices.

He leaned forward, his warm lips brushed against mine softly in a way that almost fooled me as tenderly to escalate into a harsh kiss that lasted for scarce seconds before he broke it, making me desperately yearn for more of his touch.

This was how much power he had on me. Even If I knew it was wrong and nothing good could ever result from this, even if I was well aware of the fact that this was just a game of cat and mouse were I would never come out on top; I craved for his imposing presence, his ruthlessness, all his perfection and imperfection. He was right, I was afraid of him and at the same time I wanted him more than anything.

I was playing with fire and it would be only a matter of time before I got burned.

This was the time when I became fully aware that, until he allowed me to, this would be an endless cycle, a fine line between illusion and reality, between my fear and my desire.

He didn't love me. I'm not sure how I felt about him.  
And yet, we didn't need to rephrase that. I didn't need to hear it from his mouth to know it was true and he didn't need a verbal response to realize it.

What we had was unconventional, complicated, horrifying and full of doubts and false hope.

I can't picture it being any other way, nor would I want it to.

The feeling was mutual.

* * *

_"They yearn for what they fear for."- Dante Alighieri._

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and its characters belong to Capcom.


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